Pippin's Precious A Love Story
by SGODreamer
Summary: A collection of cute and romantic stories between Pippin and Aimer an OC . Read all about the adventures that these two have shared together... As well as the inseparable bond that has grown between the two... Could it be love?


Aimer and Pippin had been wandering farmer Maggot's crops in search of tender ears of sun kissed corn... And perhaps a tasty mushroom or two.  
It was a gorgeous day without a cloud to be seen for miles around. The sky looked almost like an aqua colored sheet, without a blemish to taint it's undying beauty.

Ever since the battle for the ring had been brought to its ultimate demise, Pippin had managed to get himself into relations with many of the hobbit women inhabiting the Shire. His bravery and acts of valor were now known far and wide... Even though many of the supposed "truths of war" told about him were stretched for the purpose of making far better stories.

Young Pippin had been unable to cope with this kind of attention at first... even though it was no secret that he enjoyed it quite a bit, he was far too young to be having such romantic relationships as the shire women desired to have with him. Multiple times, he had found himself hiding in the corner of the Prancing Pony, filled to the brim with desperate females, trying in vain to seek refuge and become a normal hobbit again... if only for a moment.

Since Merry, Pippin's older cousin, had to cope with the turmoils that came with fame as well, Pippin had eventually let his fame get him down and out...  
Until the day he finally met someone he could truly confide in.

A young, bubbly, and unmistakably beautiful hobbit girl by the name of Aimer.

Aimer was a kind hobbit with a genuine heart of gold. She had secretly possessed a crush on Peregrin for years... far before his sudden fame was sparked. The roll of his Scottish accent sent chills up her spine every time she was given the privilege to hear it. Their long conversations together had sent her away a breathless shell of her former self... Staring into his emerald colored eyes always managed to penetrate her very soul. It was as if he could read her like a book... As if her feelings were displayed upon her quivering lips and trembling hands like pages.

In all honesty, though he never spoke a word of it to anyone, Pippin had been pondering over his own feelings as well. He had enjoyed the tight bond of friendship he held with Aimer... The almost inseparable relationship they had managed to form as of late.

Often times, Merry had been away on business, fighting robbers and bandits littering the Shire and elsewhere. Those ruffians couldn't even begin to compare to the multitudes of orcs they had hewn down only two years before.  
Though Pippin was in fact at peace with Merry's new found duties, he soon enough found himself a rather lonely young hobbit with no one to talk to who wasn't head over heels in love with him... He had grown tired of being treated like such a celebrity all the time, and longed for the simple privilege of sitting down to a nice cold glass of beer with his old companions.

He had seldom been away from Merry, and sorely missed talking with him into the very depths of the night. Summer days often grew dreary and cold without his anyone there to comfort him...  
But all of this had changed when he met Aimer.

Aimer's golden curls bounced up and down like living beams of sunshine as she skipped through the corn field. The stalks grew up around her like a maze, and Pippin found himself far too often separated from her.

Fresh carrots and red skinned potatoes fell from his arms as he jogged clumsily after her. Farmer Maggot's crops had been plentiful this year to say the very least, and he would not be the one to miss out on the opportunity to acquire such tasty delicacies.

"This'll make for a great stew later on." thought the young hobbit, licking his lips subconsciously. "Maybe Sam will be gracious enough to stew us up some of that nice, tender rabbit meat to accompany it... Without ol' Gollum there to pester him about how disgustin 'taters' are, it should be quite the easy and enjoyable feat!"

Pippin allowed the thought of scrumptious food to fill his mind to the brim with steamy images of afternoon tea times and dinners well spent. His eyes acquired a glazed, far off look, and soon he found his poor, hobbit nose planted straight into Aimer's back.

He jolted back with a start and put a hand to his sore nose, dropping several of his fresh veggies in the process. "Oof... That pain right there is enough to make any hobbit cry! I'm real Sorry about th..." Pippin's sentence dropped short. His hand fell limp and unmoving to his side.

Lying directly in front of him was a sight that he never believed he would have to gaze upon again.

He and Aimer were standing helplessly in the midst of a band of orcs.

* * *

The strong leather of the whip was already wrapped tightly around Aimer's forearm. Before she had any time to react, it was snapped back, stealing pieces of bloody flesh as it whipped to its place behind one of the orcs.

Pippin immediately assumed him to be the leader. He was an ugly slate color, with cold, dead eyes that possessed no emotion saving hatred. His lips were pulled back into a contorted grin over his brilliant array of fangs, which shown eerily under the light of the once happy and golden sunshine.  
One of his ears was mutilated beyond recognition, and lie in what seemed to be a splatter of molten and bubbling flesh taped to the side of his head. His snout was pushed in like that of a pug, and his nostrils seemed to be nothing but slits opening up into endless pits within his cruel head.

Directly behind the leader, four other orcs stood menacingly, snickering at each whimper of pain that now escaped Aimer's throat. Pippin could scarcely believe what his eyes were seeing.

Surely he and his companions had destroyed each and every one of Saruman's minions during the course of that one, final battle. Pippin had seen all of the bloodshed... And even the torrents of water that had overtaken his enemies in one furious wave. The ents had crushed many of the orcs like wriggling bugs beneath their branched feet... So how was it that five of them were now looming hungrily over he and Aimer? Did they resurrect from the dead... Or perhaps never perish at all, despite the death of even their malignant leader, Sauron?

The lead orc searched the faces of the two hobbits intently. It was obvious that he took great joy in absorbing each and every sign of fear that shown blatantly upon them. He relished Aimer's silent sobs like a sweet candy, while Pippin gazed up at him with a look half of fear... and half of pain on the behalf of his dear friend.

The orc raised the leather whip again, already stained crimson with splotches of Aimer's blood. He allowed a deep, throaty growl to escape from his mouth, and an evil, joyous smile contorted his fanged face once again. The whip cracked in Aimer's direction...

And landed with a sickening thwack on pippin's lower arm, poised protectively in front of him.

Aimer gasped in surprise at seeing her dear friend wincing in pain before her. The leather strip that should have sliced across her ivory colored face only moments before was now being torn across Pippin's slender body.

She couldn't believe that he would take such pain on her behalf. What could have possibly possessed him to step in front of her like that?

"That nitwit!" She thought silently as angry tears stung her eyes.

She had never known someone to intercede on her behalf, especially when pain was involved. But there was Pippin... Blood running down his arms in tiny rivulets just like her own, taking the pain that was originally intended for her.

"S-S-Stop this at once!" Aimer screamed to the top of her lungs. Her voice broke a little bit, and she hated herself for it. What a terrible occasion for her courage to fail! Pippin needed her... But what was she to do at a time like this?

"Aimer... Run! I'll fight them off if I can! Please, just ru..." Pippin's sentence ended in a sharp cry of agony as the whip hit the side of his face.

Already visible streams of fresh blood had begun to rise to the surface of his cheek and right ear. Aimer stared at him in utter horror, half expecting him to crumple to the ground in an endless wave of sobs...

But had she forgotten? Pippin had changed since the time of their childhood. The stories so often told of him by those who admired his bravery were true.

Pippin stood his ground, wiping the back of his hand swiftly across his cheek to remove the blood that was trickling into the corners of his mouth. His shoulders remained broad and confident, challenging his enemies with an unspoken threat. His green eyes shown like angry jewels under the light of the now blaring sun, and when he spoke, it was with utmost authority:

"Keep your filthy hands off my friend you stinking beasts, or I'll be forced to rip you limb from limb!"

Even Pippin was surprised at the courageous tone his voice had taken on. His Scottish accent flared behind each of his words, making the sentence he had just uttered that much more valiant.  
The orcs laughed their cackling, wretched laugh in unison... A dark, echoing sound that rumbled out of their heartless chests.

"As if a halfling like you could take on such power!" The leader of the orcs growled as he threw his blood stained whip to the ground, and motioned sharply to his sturdy, muscular chest.

Before Pippin could respond, the orc had promptly replaced his whip with a dagger that had been hanging in a tattered sling by his side. It resembled a spider web,  
and it's sharp edge was jagged and cracked as a result of previous battles.

The orc's muscles shown tightly under the gray blue skin, like knots of pure strength. His nostrils flared in and out at a rapid pace with the anger of having been defied by such a weak excuse for a warrior. He now shot rancid puffs of oxygen into Pippin's face that polluted the air around him with the stench of dead and rotting meat.  
He glowered down at Pippin with a look of satisfaction at having bested his prey, and raised his dagger menacingly to the hobbit's throat.

What on earth had he gotten himself into?

* * *

Pippin stared intently at the blade glimmering before him. His eyes flickered with a faint trace of terror, and being aware of this, he immediately tried to hide his fear.

He knew within the very depths of his soul that he would never be able to live up to such a powerful villain alone... Much less, one that now had a weapon poised at his throat.

Though he knew for a fact that many back in the shire regarded him as a hero who cut down evil man and beast in the final battle for the ring, he had spent most of that time on the backs of towering ents... Crushing enemies beneath not his own feet, but those belonging to Treebeard.

He was far too frail, and his muscles far too powerless to match this orc's strength... And though the orcs glowering with a sickening hunger behind their leader were lanky and weak looking in comparison, he would be overtaken in a matter of moments if this fight continued on much longer.

Coming abruptly to his senses, he turned to Aimer with a look of apology and sheer fear displayed upon his face.  
At once, Aimer could read his expression of panic.

Without a second thought, both of the hobbits were running as fast as their short legs could carry them...

They had barely gotten so much as twenty feet away from their pursuers when Pippin uttered a cry of shock.

Aimer took a desperate look backwards at her companion, but a reassuring glance from his forest green eyes, and the ferocity at which he was still sprinting forward and through the maze of corn stalks was enough to keep her from halting to check on him.

At some point or other, the band of orcs grew bored of their wild goose chase, and fell behind the two young hobbits. Regardless of this fact however, Aimer and Pippin refused to slow their pace until they were safely contained within the boundaries of Pippin's home.

Aimer was the first to enter through the maple wood door, and as she bent over grasping her knees and attempting to catch a decent breath, Pippin came scrambling clumsily after her. His breathing too was labored as he slammed the rounded door loudly behind him and entered the house.

Disoriented and panic stricken as a result of their sudden encounter with orcs, he stumbled towards Aimer and crashed into her.

They tumbled to the floor together, gasping and unable to determine which direction was up, and which was down.

* * *

Pippin shut his eyes for a fraction of a second in order to come to his senses... and when he opened them, to his horror he was lying directly on top of Aimer.

She stared up at him, her blue, shimmering eyes alive with shock. Pippin looked down at her bewildered, still gasping sharply for air. It was only when Aimer sucked in her breath sharply that he found the sanity to crawl away and plant himself on the floor beside her.

He found soon enough that his hand had somehow managed to pin Aimer's wounded wrist tightly to the floor, and her eyes displayed her pain blatantly across her face.

"Aimer.. I'm so terribly sorry! Your wrist must pain you quite a bit after that nasty orc's whip sliced across it so mercilessly. Here, let me see the extent of the damage. Surely it will heal up nicely after I've bandaged it and..."

Pippin had tenderly held his hand out to take and examine Aimer's own, but it quickly recoiled as he let out a sudden hiss of pain. He grasped at his right shoulder blade, clenching the white fabric of his button up shirt beneath his trembling fingers.

Aimer gasped and put her hands to her mouth as she realized Pippin's current physical state.

The leather whip that the orc had wielded only moments before had created several slash marks across Pippin's back... Or at least she could infer that it had. His shirt was stained with four thin streaks of red, and one of his chocolate colored suspenders had been severed at the top, and was now hanging limply at his side.

"He must have endured these horrible blows when we first turned to run" she thought to herself sorrowfully.

Originally, Aimer guessed that the force of the whip had been enough to break through the tough fabric of Pippin's suspenders, but now she could determine that it was something else that had severed it.

Disregarding the winding scratch that twisted along the length of her lower arm, she reached out gently for Pippin's face.

As she lifted his chin and the emerald eyes she loved so dearly met hers, she could plainly see that he was in a great deal of discomfort and pain.

"What could have possibly inflicted such a wound upon your shoulder, Pippin?" she inquired of him, nearly whispering the words into his face, now contorted with agony.

"Aw, it's nothing to get worked up over... That nasty orc just dealt me a fairly good blow with his dagger across the shoulder blade as I was running. I'll live, I just need a breather.."

Pippin once again gasped as his wound stung.

"Pippin... You call that 'nothing to get worked up over'? If that's nothing to worry about, then my dear that's about the same as saying one doesn't mind losing an arm or a leg."

Aimer had made her way to Pippin's back, and was unfastening the other suspender, sliding both of them from Pippin's blood stained shirt.

"Pippin, the wounds that you have acquired are far from fatal.. But I fear that they will become infected if you're left in this state. I shall have to tend them if you wish to recover effectively."

Pippin gazed over his shoulder, and he spied Aimer eying him sadly.  
As she slowly and gently attempted to ease his shirt over his shoulders, it was all Pippin could do not to cry out. An almost silent groan escaped his lips, but it was enough for Aimer to notice his pain and halt her attempt at once.  
"Pip.. That was a very foolish thing for you to do, saving me from a band of orcs like that. I am more than thankful for your saving me, but I would rather have been abducted by them and taken to the very depths of Saruman's castle than to see you in such agony.."

"Aimer, I don't want to hear you say anything like that again." Pippin shot her a serious glance, and his eyes shown wild into hers with a protective light she had never seen before.

"I was more than happy to endure these small injuries on your behalf... If you had been the one to receive such wounds..." His voice broke off, and a lump formed in his throat.  
"Then I don't know what I would have done."

A bright pink hue spread across Aimer's cheeks, and illuminated her pale face. Pippin had been her dear friend for nearly two years now, but she had never felt this sensation while talking to him.

It welled up inside her like a spring of mystery, twisting her stomach into knots and making her eyelids flutter.

"I'm sorry for being so reckless... I should have stayed beside you the entire time, but instead I bolted off on my own. I need to be more aware of my surroundings, and more considerate of others. If that had been the case, none of this would have happened..." She babbled, trying with no avail to regain control of her words.

Aimer's lower lip quivered slightly as she tried to hold back her bitter tears of regret. She was so sorry that Pippin's injuries had been a result of her carelessness... and even he could see this plainly.

"Aimer, I truly don't mind. Taking any beating or injury for your sake makes me feel honored. I can't think of a better way to repay you for the wonderful years of friendship you have given me."

Aimer's cheeks were a flaming crimson at this point. The sweet words that were rolling off of his tongue with his scottish accent clinging endearingly to each of them were simply too much for her. She abruptly got to her feet, and offered Pippin her hand.

"Well, in that case, I can never repay you for the pain you have taken on my behalf... thank you, Pip."

Pippin's eyes floated down towards the mahogany colored wood that adorned his floor. He was quite sure that a pink hue was dancing across his face as well.

"The least I can do is clean up and bandage your wounds."

Pippin grinned up at her, and a genuine smile crossed his face despite the pain he was enduring.

He took her hand, and was lifted with difficulty to his feet.

When Aimer finally returned from gathering her first aid supplies, she found Pippin sprawled across his bed, back towards the sky. He had somehow managed to remove the rest of his garments without her, saving only his trousers, and now she was able to see the full extent of the damage that was dealt to him.

Crimson streaks decorated his flesh, slicing across the ivory colored skin of his back, and winding around the forearm that had valiantly shot up to guard her from the whip.

The outline of each wound was now a dull purple color, no doubt bruised as a result of the force at which the whip was brought down.

A fairly deep gash ran from the top of his left ear to the edge of his sculpted jaw, with streaks and splotches of dried blood still tainting the corners of his lips.

The injury that stood out the most to Aimer, however, was none of the above. What caught her eye was an undeniably serious wound inflicted mercilessly on Pippin's right shoulder blade. It was unmistakably the orc's nasty dagger that had made this mark.

She jogged quickly over to the bedside, trying desperately not to drop any of the supplies that were tucked tightly against her chest.  
After placing her medical instruments on the covers beside Pippin, she ran back from whence she had come, and returned moments later with a tub of steaming water sloshing in her hands.

Pippin made an attempt at rising to his knees as Aimer dipped a white rag in the hot liquid. Her gentle hand, however, held back his good shoulder as she signaled for him to lie back down.

"Just relax and let me clean you up a bit, Pip. I'll try not to be long."

Pippin immediately obeyed, and eased himself onto his stomach once again.

The first area that Aimer dealt with was the serious shoulder wound inflicted by the jagged orc blade. As the wet rag gently washed the blood that had caked into a crust over his flesh, Pippin had to stifle a groan. He hadn't expected bathing a simple wound to be so painful. He certainly hadn't received one this serious before... Even during the final battle for the ring.

Aimer rubbed the rag in slow circles around Pippin's shoulder, assuring that all of the red stains were removed as best they could be. The wound was still bleeding quite a bit, and little pools of red were already developing once again.

She then proceeded to dab a cotton ball in an herbal medicine that would sterilize the cuts.  
Aimer caught Pippin's fingers clenching the covers tightly in suspense as she lowered the medicine to his shoulder. It was all she could do not to shed a tear on her friend's behalf.. She could blatantly tell that he was expecting this medicine to hurt him.

"Don't you worry" she said softly. Pippin looked up at her with puppy like eyes, realizing to his sheer embarrassment that he had made his fear of pain far too obvious.

"This medicine contains both King's root, as well as a mixture of aloe juices... It should soothe the sting and aid in stopping the bleeding."

She lowered the wet cotton to his back, now adorned with yet another rivulet of blood that was trickling it's way onto his white bedsheets.

As the fluid touched the severed flesh, he let out a moan of relief. The sting of the wound immediately left him, and a tingling sensation followed swiftly in it's place. His shoulder felt almost numb to the pain he had been experiencing moments before, and his fingers released their grip on the sheets.

Noticing that he had finally relaxed, Aimer began to thread a needle into Pippin's wound, tightening up the loosed ends of torn flesh with coarse stitches.  
It was all she could do in her power not to get sick...

"He took this beating for me..." she kept thinking to herself. The thought made her shiver.

Yet it was this very thought that kept her needle going, and glued her to Pippin's side despite the selfish sensation of nausea that was welling up within her gut.

Close to half an hour later, Pippin was sitting upright once again. His shoulders had loosed themselves of their previous tension, and his wounds were no longer paining him severely.

Bandages wound themselves around his torso, making him look very much like a mummy from the neck down... Aimer couldn't help noticing that the gauze and pads of cotton dotting his skin also gave him the appearance of a warrior come home home from battle.

Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest.

Pippin looked up at her suddenly with his dazzling eyes. She must have gulped a little too loud.

"Is everything alright, Aimer?" he asked, concern written in every crease of his face.

"Oh yes, everything's fine! The true question is are you alright? Does everything feel at least close to normal?"

Pippin wiggled around slightly in his new cloak of gauze and sticky tape. He patted down both of his sides to insure that everything was snug, and looked up at her with his old, goofy grin.

"Well, that's a relief.", she breathed as she smiled back at him shyly. "I was beginning to think that I would  
never see that chubby face of yours light up again!"

She pinched both of his cheeks playfully, and when she pulled back his lower lip was tucked into a feigned puppy dog pout.

"Could it be that you're calling me fat, Madame?" He said sarcastically as his eyes gazed into hers playfully. "Though I will admit... a bucket or two of farmer Maggot's mushrooms sounds absolutely lovely right about now!"

Aimer couldn't help but laugh and twist her face into a huge smile. Here Pippin was, after experiencing such intense pain, acting like his old self.

That was one of the many things she has always admired strongly about his character... Though situations might indeed grow tough at times, Pippin never backed down and gave up hope. He was always willing to go on and persevere, no matter the toils and snares that lie in wait for him. It was this very motivation and hope that had led him to journey with Frodo to destroy the ring after all... He would do anything necessary to help a friend in need.

And this was a very dangerous thought.

Aimer's face grew grave, and a line of worry crossed her forehead once again. She simply could not imagine Pippin forfeiting his life one day, trying to save someone as unimportant and miniscule as herself. She couldn't bear to think of it.

She lifted a hand to Pippin's cheek, and his face turned serious once again. His fit of childish giggles had stopped, and he was gazing at her with such curiosity, as if trying to decipher her every thought in that one moment.

They both leaned towards one another, Aimer's soft hand cradling his cheek, his hand reaching out to take hers.

Just as their lips were about to touch, Pippin winced in pain.

"What a fool!" Aimer thought to herself as she allowed the blush to leave her face.

She had forgotten to treat and bandage the slash that still ran across Pippin's once innocent and carefree face.  
Unthinking, Aimer instinctively raised the wet rag once again to the crimson flesh. Her fingers were still shaking, and her heart seemed nearly to pound out of her chest with every shallow breath she took...

Their lips had been moments away from meeting. What was she thinking? Pippin was her best friend, and nothing more... Right?

As if in answer to this pressing question, Pippin reached up and grabbed her by the wrist. His grasp remained firm and demanding as he searched her soul once again with his eyes. They seemed to be asking a silent question, and Aimer could certainly guess what it was.

Did she love him?

She felt his eyes squint in pain as she wiped the dried blood from his cheek. His fingers remained poised around her wrist as she worked her way down to the corner of his lips.

By this point, their faces were so close together, that Pippin could smell the sweet fragrance of her golden hair... The hair that wound it's way in tight ringlets to just below the tips of her shoulders, and reflected the light of the sun that was coming through his bedside window. She looked absolutely stunning.

Aimer was thinking romantic thoughts of her own at this point.

Pippin's breath came in shallow little gulps, tickling her neck and sending shivers up her spine. Her eyes lowered slightly until they were directly in front of his.

"All better?" she whispered almost inaudibly as she lowered her hand from Pippin's cheek.

In a span of time almost too quick for her to think straight, Pippin had pressed his lips firmly against her own. His wounded hand still remained grasping her wrist, but his other had her by the back of the head, running his fingers hungrily through her hair.

Jolts went up her spine. This was the most physical contact she had ever had with another hobbit... Much less with young, innocent Pippin.

She couldn't resist the urge to kiss him back, nearly knocking him over in the process.

Pippin thought her lips tasted like roses, if the scent of flowers could be turned into a flavor. They were soft and gentle... Unlike anything he had imagined they would be. He didn't want to stop, but...

"Aimer..." He finally managed to gasp, gulping in oxygen as the word escaped his lips.  
"I... I don't know..."  
Pippin's cheeks were a flaming red. Aimer had never seen him this flustered before... It was so cute the way he was staring at her wide eyed, just like the Pippin she had always known.  
"Fool of a Took." She murmured.  
"Get your rest."  
And with that, she left the room, her golden curls trailing behind her.


End file.
